


rhododendrons

by worry



Series: heartbreaks and earthquakes [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e02 A Door Into the Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: Part of him was hoping that he would never have to see Simon again;you rip the bandage off fast so it's less painful, you stitch up the wound quick so it's less painful, you let it heal slowly. These things take time.But - who was he kidding, he's going to be entwined with Simon until the end of time, it seems. Quite literally.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first part of the project I'm definitely going to finish: aka the one where I write season 2 from Raphael's pov. Yep.

Part of him was hoping that he would never have to see Simon again; _you rip the bandage off fast so it's less painful, you stitch up the wound quick so it's less painful, you let it heal slowly. These things take time._

 

But - who was he kidding, he's going to be entwined with Simon until the end of time, it seems. Quite literally. Raphael has never been very familiar with trust, never had it truly inside of him; he never  _trusted_ Simon, not in the way one imagines a normal trust. Instead he cared fiercely, cared for Simon like there was something inside of him slowly working itself undone. He felt with his entire being, which is why he felt Simon's betrayal in his entire being - he hadn't expected it. He gave Simon  _everything_ \- a phrase that, thinking about now, is too similar to Camille at Simon's turning, Simon underneath the ground and Camille begging for her freedom. I've given you everything. I've given you everything you could ever want. Raphael gave him everything he could ever want, everything he could give, attached and sewn himself right into Simon Lewis, who ripped every piece of Raphael right out. Every piece that he so carefully placed in Simon to protect him. Gone.

 

Maybe he did trust Simon. Maybe it was in the right way. Maybe they were right. Maybe he's still coming undone, as much as he has tried to stitch himself back up.

 

It doesn't matter. No one in the clan has slept correctly since Camille was freed, including him. Camille will want him gone, she will want her power back so she can reign violently, and Raphael knows that his days, most likely, are numbered. He'll do everything in his power to keep them safe; no one has said it, because the vampires are a prideful kind, but Raphael gave them peace where Camille gave them chaos. Everyone is scared. Everyone's fear is justified.

 

Raphael, however, has trained fear out of him. Raphael has torn fear out of him, just like Simon tore Raphael out of him. There is no justification here, only loss.

 

Now the Clave thinks otherwise, thanks to Simon. It's always because of Simon. He became vulnerable, even for a small moment, because of Simon. He risked everything because of Simon. He burned because of Simon, and now he will burn, slowly and slowly like backing away from something wild,  _because of Simon._

 

(Tracking Simon is easy. He knew Simon would be with the werewolves; the Shadowhunters don't want him, the vampires have banished him. That's the only place he could go, with Luke Garroway. It's not the most ideal situation, he can tell. Hm.  _Good._ )

 

The cabin is empty. It smells like dried blood, old dirt, sickness - it smells like Simon Lewis, a scent that Raphael used to find somewhat amusing, the way he was worn down but always still so positive -

 

Now: the scent only revolts him. Everything in him screams  _what could have been,_ everything in him twists and recoils. Now is not the time. Now is not the time for emotions. Emotions cloud judgement, and Raphael is hard like stone. He always will be.

 

Simon isn't home yet _—_

 

 _Home._ The word shakes his body. This isn't Simon's  _home;_ it's a place where he stays, cold and sick, because of Raphael. Welcome home. I'll get you fed, show you around your new home. My new advisor has to stay here. Baby's first words. Home. Home. Home. 

 

He thinks  _good riddance._ It doesn't feel right in his mind, it's unsettling, the worst punishment possible. He repeats it over and over again:  _good riddance, Simon. Goodbye. Have fun on your own. See when you come crawling back to me. Good riddance. Good riddance. Good fucking riddance._ Every part of his brain feels like it's melting.  _Good riddance._ He feels out of place, taken and pushed. He feels pulled apart.  _Good riddance._ It's not right. It's not right. None of this is  _right._

 

Simon isn't  **back** yet so he says it out loud: "Simon."

 

The word feels like a blade cutting into him, the word feels like being burned slowly. 

 

"Simon."

 

He hides in the darkness of the cabin, breathing out Simon's name steadily. 

 

"Simon," he says, the words being a little bit too soft, "what the  _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

 

Wrong. Raphael is hard like stone. 

 

"Simon. We need to talk."

 

It's too soft, too soft, too _soft_.

 

" _Simon,_ " he hisses, and drops his fangs. "Don't forget what I did for you."

 

Better, but _—_

 

_Why so angry? Is it the fleas or the ticks?_

 

Simon's voice echoes in the unfolding pit inside of Raphael, a new place to live.

 

He's growing closer. Faster. Raphael can tell, even in the way he speaks and holds himself, that he's getting stronger, now that they have been cut apart. Not strong enough, however, to find Camille Belcourt, which is what really matters. The reason that he's here, standing in complete darkness, waiting for Simon to come back to him.

 

The only reason.

 

He opens the door, walks in; Raphael can't stand in the darkness anymore. He has to act fast. The only thing that he's good at is acting fast and filling himself with logic, swallowing emotions down until they unfold.

 

Simon looks terrified when Raphael corners him.

 

(Good riddance, he thinks, and it feels  _right.)_

 

"Hey, bud," slips out of his mouth, he's never been good with things like  _this,_ like the man who betrayed him up against a wall and alone. "Como estas?"

 

"Raphael, amigo," Simon says, and he's still keeping that positive act up. One day he'll break, Raphael knows this. You can't stay positive forever. "Can I get you a pint of O neg?"

 

"Explain to me," he says, moving Simon away, a little bit more relaxed in his threats, "why you told Victor Aldertree I'm responsible for a vampire den in Flatbush?"

 

"N-no, I didn't say that," Simon says -  _lies, bitterly._ "I said that those decisions are way, uh, above my paygrade, that they come from guys at the top like you..."

 

He's always been  _like this,_ how did Raphael not realize? What was the underlying cause for Raphael's regretful fondness for Simon Lewis? 

 

He knows. He will always carry this regret, like a scar. Like a thick,  _disgusting_ scar.

 

"Wow," Simon says. "Uh, saying it back, I can see how they came to that conclusion."

 

Raphael can't stop himself. He pushes Simon into the bunk,  _this is his fault, despite everything Raphael must hate him, Raphael needs to be around to protect them. The clan. His family. It's too stressful._

 

"That was one of Camille's dens."

 

"I thought that was Maria's den?'

 

"She turned Maria too, genius," Raphael says, imagines himself with bigger teeth and a solid heart. Instead he's going to pay for this, for what Simon did. "And now, because of you, I'm being called into answer for it."

 

Raphael doesn't deserve this. He doesn't. Simon Lewis came into his life and messed it all up; without Simon, there would be Camille, but he would be safe. Still in Camille's clutch, but safe. Unharmed, not scarred, painless.

 

Emotionless.

 

"Do you know what the Clave does to vampires who violate the Accords?"

 

Simon doesn't know. Of course he doesn't know. Simon isn't capable of understanding.

 

"Not sure I want to know."

 

"They nail us to crosses, then let shafts of sunlight burn off our body parts. One at a time."

 

"Which body parts?"

 

Raphael glares.

 

"You know, don't answer that. I can probably talk to Clary _—"_

 

Raphael does the unforgivable act of touching him. Grabs his shoulder like they're something close to friends again. It hurts more than the cross ever would.

 

"No," he says. "You're going to find Camille and bring her back to the Hotel DuMort."

 

"Why me?"

 

_Why me._

 

"Because you and your friends are the ones who let her out. Camille is your sire. Use your connection to her, or  _die trying._ "

 

His hand is still on Simon's shoulder. Not rough.

 

Raphael leaves the cabin without another word. He tries to run  _good riddance_ over and over again in his mind, but it doesn't work. Some part of him knows that it never will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _in victorian flower language, rhododendrons mean danger and to beware._


End file.
